


The Journey of the Magi

by metaphoracle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphoracle/pseuds/metaphoracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another T.S. Eliot mashup/pastiche. This time with "The Journey of the Magi" and the road trip they never showed that Dean, Bobby and Castiel took at the end of season five.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Journey of the Magi

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to my beta, Amelie, who consistently gives me a reality check when I think I’m being artsy and clever and reminds me how to be a writer.

“The drive sucked,  
Just the worst time of the year  
For a road trip, and such a long trip:  
Rough roads and harsh weather,  
Smack dead in the middle of winter.”  
The cars skid, tires slipping, spinning out  
Losing traction in the melting snow.  
There were times we regretted  
The summer food stands by the roadside  
And the migrant girls bringing boiled peanuts.  
Then the truckers cursing and grumbling  
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,  
And the streetlamps going out, and the lack of motels,  
And the hostile cities and the unfriendly suburbs  
And the podunk towns, charging jacked up prices:  
It sucked.  
In the end we preferred to travel all night,  
Sleeping in fits,  
With the radio lulling us to sleep, singing  
I see the bad moon rising.

Then at dawn we came down the I-70 into Lawrence,  
Wet brown grass from melted snow, air filled with the scent of corn;  
With a flooded river and a windmill farm spinning in the dark,  
And three trees on the horizon,  
And an old white Chevy rusted away in the meadow.  
Then we came to a bar with deer horns over the doorway,  
Six guys at the bar shooting quarters for crumpled up bills,  
Feet kicking the empty beer bottles.  
But there was no intel, and so we continued  
And arrived in the evening, not a moment too soon  
Finding the place; it was pretty unimpressive for what it was

I know this was forever ago,  
And I would do it again, but ask  
This ask  
This: were we led all that way to  
Avert the Apocalypse or not? There wasn’t an Apocalypse, okay,  
We saw that without a doubt. I’ve seen the Apocalypse and what came after,  
But I’d thought they were different; this lack of an Apocalypse was  
Hard and bitter purgatory for us, like Apocalypse, our apocalypse.  
We returned to the normal, our homes,  
But couldn’t get comfortable again, like we’d been before,  
With an alien god clutching its people.  
I’d be glad for another apocalypse.


End file.
